


Construction

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Lego, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil and Legolas have some unusual bonding time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Construction

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “1) Set in 3rd or 4th Age in Middle-earth 2) Thranduil from book or movie (but not a modern version) 3) Modern Legos (not invented by Dwarves -- just somehow dropped into Middle-earth) 4) Thranduil is give the set with Lego!Thranduil in it [etc]” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=25500418#t25500418).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or Lego or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When he begrudgingly admitted that he’d like to spend more time with his father, this isn’t what he had in mind. He thought, perhaps, that they would go hunting together as they used to, though now Legolas is old enough to bring his own steed, instead of clutching to the back of his father’s robes atop an enormous elk. Now that their relations with Dale are stronger than ever, he wouldn’t mind visiting Bard’s home, perhaps the three of them eating dinner together, sharing small talk, and Legolas could enjoy the rare sight of his father at ease. Even a picnic could’ve worked out. But this is something entirely different, and as Legolas takes his seat at the large oak table, Thranduil stoically explains, “These were given to me by Bard. I have heard that his children were quite fond of them.”

Legolas is a far cry from mortal children, just as Thranduil is a far cry from Bard, but in the interest of peace, Legolas only nods. His father places a number of boxes on the table, all painted rectangles that portray simplified action scenes on their covers, bearing a sharp, red-and-white logo on the upper left corner. In a way, Legolas supposes he’s proud of his father—it’s difficult for the stubborn king to ask for help, even as trusting of Bard as he’s become. And Bard is a good role model in a fatherly respect; his children still adore him. But the idea of ‘play time’ also seems very out of place in their grand dining hall, with the elegant starlight streaming in from the branched ceiling above and twin wine glasses standing beside the bottle. 

Once the boxes have all been set upright, Thranduil pours for both of them, asking, “Which would you like to build?”

“We build them?” Legolas asks, eyeing the strange boxes. He’s aware that there must be toys inside, although they certainly couldn’t hold the displays they bare, unless those displays are thoroughly miss-sized. Unless, of course, they’re disassembled. He nods in understanding. “Ah. Are these Dwarven toys?”

“No,” Thranduil says curtly, nearly scowling. Legolas should’ve known as much; surely nothing Dwarven could’ve made it this deep into the castle, however promising they might seem. Still, toys that require building first seems a very Dwarven concept. 

As Thranduil takes his first sip, expression as cool and collected as it would be in any royal session, Legolas eyes his choices. The boxes are all labeled in the common tongue, although the pictures they portray don’t represent these concepts very well. Lake-town, for instance, is little more than a single bridge, very blocky and composed of only rudimentary shapes. Most of the sets appear based on grandiose places or events, though he finds himself lingering on something of a log cabin. Squinting at the package, he asks, “What is a Bag End?”

Thranduil puts his glass back on the table and answers, “That is where the halflings live.” Legolas nods, remembering the stout little fellow who once evaded their dungeons, only to so bravely later aid them against gold-maddened dwarves. Curious, Legolas takes the Bag End box in his hand, eyeing the interior of the strange little home. It seems to hold only one room, and something tree-like is sprouting out of the top. 

A number of figures are placed about the home. The wizard is easy enough to recognize. Legolas skims his fingers over the others, wondering aloud, “Are these all hobbits?”

“No, some are dwarves.” Thranduil places the tip of one finger at the bottom left corner, and Legolas realizes that the lined-up figures have names beneath. Scowling again, Thranduil adds, “They are thoroughly abundant. There is an absurd amount of Thorin Oakenshield figurines in particular. He is in several different sets.”

Reaching past Legolas, Thranduil draws forward a box depicting mingled trees and stone, with orcs attacking from the bottom. “The King Thranduil figurine, however,” Thranduil muses with a sudden grin not unlike a smirk, “is far superior. You will see that I am wearing my crown, whereas Thorin, in most, is not. My legs are also of the proper size. The craftsmanship is quite compelling.”

Before Legolas can offer his input, Thranduil has opened the seal of the box. He overturns it to pour an array of brightly-coloured, blocky shapes onto the table, all sporting round grooves on at least one side. A quick sweep of the general makeup gives Legolas the idea of how it’s to work; the grooves are clearly meant to fit varying pieces together. Many are already clumped together, as though they’d been previously assembled and not entirely separated before their return to their box. Indeed, Thranduil uprights and begins locking together several beige walls. As he works, he adds, “Unfortunately, Bard was unable to find the instructions, but I believe we should be able to make do.” 

Looking at the box, Legolas isn’t sure instructions are necessary, though he imagines it would be quite easy to accidentally lose pieces in the wrong sets. When Legolas doesn’t immediately join in, Thranduil pushes a pile of beige bricks towards him. So Legolas curiously snaps two bricks together, then a third, then a fourth. 

Nodding in satisfaction or perhaps encouragingly, Thranduil pauses to reach down into his robes. When his hand returns to the table, there’s a little figurine clutched in it that doesn’t look too different from the Thranduil one, though it doesn’t have a crown.

“This is you,” Thranduil announces, another small smile gracing his lips. He places the little ‘Legolas’ next to his own facsimile, then thinks better of it and relocates them to the top of the wall he’s built. Their feet snap into place to hold them up. 

Legolas glances at the box to note, “I was not included.”

“I bought you separately,” Thranduil says offhandedly, which causes Legolas’ eyebrows to rise. It’s very uncommon for his father to spend anything of their treasury on items from other races, and even odder for it to be on a tiny depiction of his son. For some reason, Legolas’ stomach’s tightened, as though he’s vaguely _happy_ about it, but the notion is so ridiculous that he picks up the box again, needing a distraction. 

The set includes only Thranduil, two orcs, two elves in green hoods, and a third elf that was originally labeled ‘Mirkwood Elf,’ but has been crossed out to say, ‘Greenwood Tauriel.’ The figurine doesn’t look particularly like her, but apparently Thranduil prefers his servants to be named wherever possible. The other two have writing down to the bottom of the box, and therefore don’t have room to be written in as others. 

Legolas puts the box down again. He will admit, these sets are becoming somewhat... intriguing. He finds the makeshift Tauriel in the pile and places her below the wall that the faux Thranduil and Legolas atop, because he knows that his father wouldn’t appreciate her being on the same level as them, even in toy form. It does leave him wondering if there is a proper Tauriel figurine somewhere, though he doubts Thranduil would’ve bothered to buy her. Again, he feels a tinge of flattery at his own acquisition. 

As he fits more pieces together, trying to make another smooth beige wall, he scans the other boxes. Finding a greyish, spiked doorway and with familiar labels, he muses, “I did not know that Beorn was from Dol Guldur.”

“He is not,” Thranduil says with a bit of a scoff. “Obviously, the creator of certain sets needs to do a bit of reading. But that isn’t the point, Legolas.” Whatever the point is, he doesn’t say. Perhaps he can’t bring himself to use the word ‘fun’ aloud. 

It takes a fair amount of time to assemble the miniature fortress and use up all the pieces. After some adjusting, they manage to form a passing resemblance to the box cover, though they are left with a few curious pieces that don’t seem to fit in anywhere. Eyeing the other sets mainly to see if they have mismatched components, he finds another pack of elves and suggests, “Perhaps we should add Elrond and Galadriel.”

But Thranduil has already chosen another box, and after a bit of noisily rifling around in it, he extracts a figure that bears a striking resemblance to Bard. Thranduil places the figure next to himself, on the other side of the miniature Legolas. He grins in satisfaction, staring at the toy set as though it’s a great accomplishment. 

It wasn’t... bad. It wasn’t what Legolas had in mind, but fitting the pieces together was soothing, in its way, and the different portrayals are slightly amusingly. He sits back, his wine untouched, and finds himself vaguely sorry that their puzzle has been fit together and there’s no logical reason to remain together at the table. Thranduil’s smile slips, perhaps realizing the same thing, and for a quiet moment, both of them staring at their inanimate counterparts, Legolas is sure that Thranduil will leave. 

Before he can, Legolas suggests, “If we build the goblin town, we can remove the goblins and add it onto our own dungeons.”

“And put the dwarves in them,” Thranduil says instantly, his eyes remarkably lighting up. He settles a second later, dawning the usual veneer of seriousness. Legolas does nothing to portray his own maybe-excitement. 

They overturn another box onto the table and begin again.


End file.
